


The Big Chair (Nine Things About Will Riker's First Command)

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a captain comes with a number of unexpected challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Chair (Nine Things About Will Riker's First Command)

**Author's Note:**

> ** Trigger: Reference to Shinzon, so possible rape trigger, but nothing we don't know from the series. **

**1.**

Getting that fourth pip shouldn’t be a big deal, not after sixteen years and with the knowledge he’s more than earned it several times over. After all, he even wore it before for his brief stint captaining the _Enterprise_ during _Wolf 359_. That’s a time he prefers to forget; the responsibility weighed heavily on him, he didn’t feel ready and was actually relieved when he demoted himself. He’s never told anyone that, not even Deanna.

He stares at the small metal disc for a full minute before adding it to the three on his collar. This moment should be anti-climatic from the sheer inevitability of the situation, and yet it isn’t. To an outsider, it would look like Will Riker is being kicked upstairs after a long career of being second best, and even he knows that this was his last chance; there was no way he could have turned down another command without resigning his commission. In this moment, all the choices he’s made to get to this point don’t even matter, because it feels right this time. He’s the captain of a brand-new starship and nothing can take that away from him. The past years have been hard for the Federation, its ideals twisted, and Will is proud to be at the vanguard of a new age of peace and exploration.

How wrong he turns out to be. The nightmare of Shinzon’s coup and the aftermath, a difficult and dangerous assignment to the Romulan Neutral Zone, tests every inch of his resolve. His fledgling crew perform admirably, and he gets by on instinct, more than a little blind luck, lots of strong coffee and even less sleep. Never before did he realise how many times Picard was just pretending to know what the hell he was doing.

On a subspace call to his former captain he brings it up, only half-joking. 

“That’s the first lesson you need to learn as a captain, Will,” Jean-Luc tells him calmly, with obvious pride in his eyes as he looks upon his former first officer. “You never have all the answers. Everyone just needs to think you do.”

 

**2.**

Will would never admit it if anyone asked, but seeing the _USS Titan_ for the first time at the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards brings a lump to his throat. She’s his ship now, no safety nets, and he’s got to be the one to bring her home when the mission is done.

 _Her._ He’s reminded of something Data once said, about how it confused him that humans referred to ships with the feminine pronoun. The lump in his throat tightens. They’re all still feeling the loss of the good-natured android, and the excitement he feels on the eve of the  _Titan’s_ maiden voyage tastes bitter in his mouth.

 

**3.**

If Will thought he could handle the intense scrutiny that was inevitable when his wife joined his senior staff, he was wrong. He knows, damn it, that Deanna earned that position and the rank on her collar through experience, that she’s the best person for the job and her being his wife has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it. Notwithstanding the fact he loves her in that uniform. Almost as much as he likes her out of it, but then, that’s not a fitting subject for the two stern Starfleet Command Admirals that grill him extensively about his crew roster. Will fights to keep his cool, and with steel in his voice, tells them that her presence aboard the ship will never interfere with his orders or duties as a captain. 

 _“Even if Commander Troi’s life were at risk, Captain?”_

_“Even then.”_ His reply is grim, his confident, head-on gaze a mask even while he’s not sure he really believes those words. It’s easy to say them when there’s nothing at stake.

 

**4.**

He appreciates Deanna being his diplomatic officer as much as he appreciates her being his wife. To have both those things makes him a lucky man indeed. Watching her defuse dangerous situations with a witty turn of phrase, or winning over warlike species with a calm, rational approach, he’s in awe. He wonders if he should tell her that watching her negotiate like that is kind of a huge turn-on, even if he hates himself a little for it because he’d never want to diminish the importance of her job and the crucial role she plays on the ship. Deanna picks it out of his thoughts anyway and laughs heartily, presses him against the wall of the turbolift and covers his neck with kisses.

 

 

**5.**

Being at the top can be as boring and isolating as it is challenging and exhilarating. A first officer’s life is a whirlwind of personnel management, liaising with departments, and doing just about everything else to keep the ship running smoothly. More simply, their job is to carry out the captain’s wishes. There are times when Will misses it, and envies his own thoroughly capable first officer and her easy, friendly relationship with the crew that used to be his.

As much as he admired Picard's command style, Will has never desired to present the same aloof, stand-offish demeanour to his crew. He prides himself on being an approachable captain, but there’s something about taking the big chair that puts a wall between you and your subordinates, however much you don’t want it to. It takes a while to get the balance right. The disaster of the team-building parisses squares match still remains a sore point for him months later. 

“You’re just not thirty anymore, Will. Maybe you need to try something a little less strenuous,” Deanna tells him serenely after his discharge from sickbay with a throbbing head and a bruised ego. He can feel her laughter inside his head, and thinks how damned annoying it can be sometimes that she knows him so well.

 

**6.**

Even in death, Shinzon still casts a long shadow over their lives. Will is patient and loving with his wife and waits until she’s ready to talk, but as weeks turn to months and she still isn’t ready to confront it, frustration boils over and he insists she gets some help. She starts seeing one of her counselling colleagues the next day.

It’s not easy. There are long months of arguments and silence and Will trying to tamp down on his disappointment each time she can’t bear for him to touch her. That impulse is something he understands intellectually, but finds it hard to deal with in practice. Even after they’d resumed physical intimacy, it had been difficult for her, and he was as tentative as she was afraid. She still shields her mind, afraid to leave herself defenceless even with him, and that wounds him deeper than he’d ever admit, even to her. Their bond makes it difficult to hide anything from each other, amplifying their shared pain to the point where it's sometimes just too exhausting to be around each other.

Finally, he acknowledges that he needs to talk about it as much as she does. On the _Enterprise,_ he never used the ship’s counselling services because he could always just talk to Deanna, but now this is about them, and he can see the logic in discussing the issue with a third party. A safe, neutral space allows him to process things that his rank would normally prevent him from discussing with anyone else on the ship.

He’s forced to confront the fact that his anger at Shinzon has never really gone away, and only became more deep-seated as he tried to hide it in that dark place he never looks at too closely. Worse still is admitting to the satisfaction he felt at the death of Shinzon's viceroy - he's never enjoyed killing before, and he knows how much it disturbed Deanna when she picked that up in his thoughts. What he never expects to discover is the buried anger at Jean-Luc Picard for dismissing Deanna’s pain so casually and suggesting that she endure more assaults for the sake of the mission. She's long since forgiven the captain for his thoughtlessness, but he just couldn't. 

In time, he manages to forget, if not forgive. He comes to understand that looking for someone to blame won’t change anything, that some things are just senseless, and that he and Deanna are strong enough to not let their marriage disintegrate over this. When he eventually admits to her where he goes every Tuesday at 10:00, she smiles up at him mischievously before telling him she’s amazed that it’s really taken him until he’s forty-five to admit he needs a shrink. Right then, he knows that they’ll get there, however long it takes.

 

**7.**

Having the most diverse crew in Starfleet history is a point of pride for Will, and it amazes him every day how these people from different worlds and species have meshed together into the well-oiled machine that is  _Titan._ He learns to appreciate the different abilities of his officers, and he’s rewarded with respect and candour that becomes an easy camaraderie. The surprise party on the bridge they organise for his forty-fifth birthday is genuinely touching, if a little embarrassing. He lets his XO slip a ridiculous party hat onto his head and orders the computer to play something from his 1920s Chicago jazz archive, even while he can’t help but think about how Picard would never have allowed this sort of thing.

Later, pleasantly fuzzy from syntheholic champagne, he actually signals Jean-Luc on subspace just to give his former captain the satisfaction of seeing him in a gold party hat. 

“Well, Will, I can see that you’re taking my advice about a captain presenting a serious image of authority to his crew,” Picard deadpans, even as his lips start to quirk up at the corners. 

“I never did like to take advice.” 

“Happy birthday, Number One.”

“Still calling me that, Jean-Luc?” 

The older man’s smile is genuine. “Old habits die hard.”

 

**8.**

Will has always been a troubled sleeper. Over twenty years of Starfleet service still hasn’t made late-night comms any easier to deal with, and unfortunately, being the one in charge means that you get more than anybody else. Some weeks, Will forgets what a night of uninterrupted sleep feels like, and falls asleep half-expecting “ _Bridge to Captain Riker”_ the moment he closes his eyes. He feels worse about disturbing Deanna’s slumber, but that’s more about his reluctance to leave her warmth and put on a cold uniform. She's always been able to pass out like a light, something she attributes to her disciplined Betazoid mind and one of the many things he envies her for.

Some of his crewmates on the  _Enterprise_ used to call him the 'ghost' due to his frequent late-night wanderings of the ship, ostensibly to check everything was running smoothly, but really because he just couldn't quiet his thoughts enough to sleep. He's always slept best with Deanna at his side and in his mind. When duty necessitates that they take different shifts and he curls up in their empty bed, he never sleeps as well as he does with her quiet, familiar mind brushing at the edges of his dreams.

His years as a first officer have given him the ability to go from deep sleep to giving orders in the space of five minutes (give or take the strong cup of _raktajino_ from the replicator that he downs on his way to the bridge). It doesn’t stop him from occasionally entertaining the childish impulse of putting the pillow over his head and telling them all to go away.

 

**9.**

The first time his words to the admiral are tested, Will thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

A routine away mission goes badly wrong, and he’s faced with the choice of sacrificing Deanna to avoid the destruction of an entire sentient species. Her captors have already surmised she’ll never give in to their wishes and give them the shield frequencies of their defenceless enemies, so they hope to obtain them from him instead. He knows as she dies slowly, cruelly at the hand of her captors, he will feel every bite of the knife, every scream, every agony as if it were his through their deep connection. Starfleet officers are trained to be ready to die if required, but he’s never going to be ready when it’s _her._

He can feel Deanna in his mind, letting go, telling him not to be afraid. He doesn’t want to listen - he wants to tell her he can’t do this without her, to give into their demands, destroy his career and the ideals he’s spent his life upholding, just to let her live. He’d do it in a second, too, if it wasn’t for her calm acceptance that she’s projecting through their link, even while a blade is held to her throat.

_It’s okay, Will._

Somehow he manages to make that terrible decision, nods and crosses the bridge to his ready room, swallowing back the bile in his throat. 

Minutes later, they find a way to disrupt the transport inhibitors and get a lock on Deanna, thankfully unharmed. He should be overjoyed, but he’s numb, subdued as she steps off the transporter pad and throws her arms around him in a rare public display of affection. Burying his face in her neck, he’s shamed by how close he came to giving into their demands.

Her fingers brush his as they follow the other senior officers into the observation lounge, and he knows that with that small gesture, she’s telling him she understands and not to blame himself. It doesn’t help. It’s no different than the _Enterprise –_ how many times did he assign her to dangerous missions then? Except it _is_ different when he’s the one in charge, when it could be his decision that sends her to her death.

Will remains calm and authoritative during the debriefing; a lifetime spent playing poker has given him the ability to bury the emotions he doesn’t want people to see. His XO watches him thoughtfully, with obvious concern, but he knows that even if he can’t pull the wool over her eyes, she’s not going to press it for now. He needs to sleep—hell, they all do—and heal, and process everything they’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours.

 _Bed?_ is Deanna’s silent question as they step into their quarters.

 _No. Just you,_ is all he says before he grabs her hips tight enough to bruise, pulls her flush against his body and kisses her with that gentle fierceness that’s all _Will_ and takes her breath away. They haven’t slept in thirty hours, both high on adrenaline and exhausted by the fraught emotions that have been amplified by their shared connection, but it doesn’t matter.

Her fingers deftly find the zip below the collar of his uniform, lingering over the four pips for a moment. Everything about that gesture is telling of her fierce pride in him, and it’d be obvious even if they weren’t sharing a mind right now. They undress quickly, making short work of zips and fasteners that they know so well, discarding the uniforms that are such a part of them without a thought. 

Not even bothering to take the few steps to the bed, he kneels, pulling her down with him to the floor. He bears her down onto soft carpet, her hands twist in his hair and he leans in to kiss her, soft and tender. It’s not a moment for being as sexually adventurous as they are both normally capable of being – the contents of the bedside drawer speak for themselves – it’s simple comfort, bright hot pleasure and the warmth of shared skin. 

Deanna’s need, her desperation is palpable, to the point where he can barely tell where her desires end and his begin. Reaching down, he spreads her thighs slowly, so slowly that she sighs in frustration. Fingers slide down his back, she hugs him close and their eyes and bodies meet. She’s trembling with need, the tension coiling beneath her skin in tendrils that reach into his mind, begging him to do it now _, Will, please_.

He kisses her, open and messy and breathless, they move against each other and he’s right _there_ in one quick, deep stroke that makes her moan.

She feels him reach for her mind with some effort – it’s never been as easy for him as it is for her, and he has to make a concerted effort to open himself to her. No matter how many times they do this, she’s always amazed by how completely Will trusts her in these moments, how he _needs_ to feel the way she’s burning under her skin for his touch. It's everything to him, and his blue eyes are soft on hers as he lets her feel that.

“Good?” he asks, his voice rough and low, aware that she’s tight around him and they probably shouldn't have skipped the foreplay, but he can tell she hardly cares at this point. 

“God, yes,” and she feels that spark of pleasure in his mind as he smiles against her skin. She wraps her legs tighter around him, and he senses a slight edge of discomfort tempered with the feeling of how _right_ it is to have him inside, and there’s nothing she wants more in this moment. She can’t help but let him feel her relief that she’s alive and he’s alive and they still have this, and with his quiet sigh against her forehead, he's telling her the same.

Through their link he hears _perfect_ and _right_ and _just like that_ , _Will, yes_ , and so he starts to move, slow and deep and careful until she’s open and slick around him.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you feel right now?” he growls, and she answers by wrapping fingers around the back of his neck and kissing him passionately. He closes his eyes, everything falls away and he just _feels_ , losing himself in a way he only can with Deanna, when there’s nothing but her skin on his and her inside his head. 

It’s always been like this for them, ever since she taught him to read her during those long nights under the hot, pulsing skies of Betazed. She’s not been so open for him in a long time, maybe not since Shinzon—no, it’s not something he wants to think about right now. He manages to hold back that thought with some effort, not wanting anything to jeopardise knowing this Deanna again; the open, trusting woman who shares everything with him, every exposed part of her soul, even the places that bruise and ache. 

His mouth finds her neck, and she makes a soft sound in her throat at the rough, deliberate scratch of his beard on her skin. Will knows her so well – _too_ well – and he can tease her exquisitely, knowing every place she loves to be touched. She presses her nails into his back, just hard enough to hurt and he hisses in pleasure.

 _Yeah. That._ _Fuck, Deanna, you feel good. So good._

Will feels a flash of amusement from her at the primal simplicity of his thoughts, and takes pride in wiping all thought from her mind with one particularly deep thrust that makes her scream. Opening herself to his desire, she moans low against his mouth as a shock of arousal pours from his mind to hers. It’s powerful and overwhelming how much he _wants_ her, needs her. Just barely, she senses something darker hidden beneath the surface, a fragment of pain, but he seals it away so quickly she can’t be sure she saw it.

He draws back and pushes forward slowly, so deep it almost hurts - _God, Will, like that -_ so deep she can’t breathe. They find an easy rhythm where she rocks into his thrusts, and it's achingly erotic, just the slide of their bodies against each other and the soft sounds they can't help making. Will reaches between their bodies as he moves inside her, making slow circles where she’s wet for him, and within seconds, she’s barely holding on.

_Please._

“Are you close?” It’s breathed softly in her ear, ragged and desperate, and he can feel how much she loves that she can do this to him.

“Mmm.” It’s not a reply, and that wasn’t a question, because they both know she is, but she can tell what he’s really asking, can sense the heat coiled beneath his skin and hear the way his breaths are sharp and slow. Every part of him is tense, stretched far beyond the limits of his control, and if she moves like that again, he’ll –

In an instant she’s reaching out, wrapping herself around the white heat in his mind, and he knows that she doesn’t care one bit, wants him to break for her. She arches her hips, and _fuck_ , she’s so wet and hot and open for him, keening soft gasps into his ear as he pants against her neck with every stroke.

 _Come_. 

Oh, and she _wants_ him to, the intent bright and burning in her thoughts, pushing at the fraying tension in his mind, and he couldn’t stop it in even if he wanted to.

“ _Deanna,”_ he groans into her neck, and just like that, he shudders, coming hard and hot and wet inside her. She holds onto him, pulls him close, falls into the sensation and pleasure of his climax and how wonderful it feels to be able to share this with him. 

He stills in her arms, breathing heavily, and there's gentle understanding in his gaze as her barely-contained arousal spikes between them. She can feel his smile, bright and sated and determined as he resumes tracing circles around her clit with shaking fingers. She’s close, been on the edge for what seems like hours and when he presses her clit unexpectedly hard, that does it.

She gasps out “oh, God, Will, _yes,”_ and then it bursts, an outpouring of heat and pleasure throughout her body in waves, _don’t stop don’t stop,_ and he doesn’t stop, and she doesn’t stop, grinding against his fingers, clenching him where he’s still buried inside her, her thighs trembling against his hips as she comes. 

He brushes tousled hair out of her eyes, takes her face in his hands and presses a gentle kiss to her lips. He’s still shaking, and heavy where he’s pressing her into the carpet, but the weight of him on her is such a comfort that she hugs him close, wanting to stay like this. 

Without distractions, everything they’ve been trying to keep from each other comes rushing back, the sheer terror that they could have lost each other.

 _I thought I'd lost you, imzadi._ The voice she hears is broken, drawn with pain, and it makes her pull him closer and press kisses all over his neck. 

_But you didn’t. I’m here._

Afterwards, when they lie entwined on the floor, her head resting on his chest, he feels compelled to explain the reasoning behind his desperation. She silences him with a gentle finger to his lips. 

 _Don’t say it. I know._

_Do you know how much I admired you? How brave you were, Deanna? That you could do that…_

“It's no more than you would do in the same situation. I admire _you_ because you could make the right choice, even if it meant my life. That’s the Starfleet captain I married.” She presses against him, and he’s reminded that she’s enticingly warm and naked, but exhaustion wins out. They fall asleep right there on the carpet, and laugh when they wake later that night, cold and uncomfortable from the awkward position they’ve slept in.

He winces as he gets to his feet, feels the ache in his knees from carpet burn. “This is the part where you tease me about not being as young as I used to be.”

“Come on, old man, let’s get you to bed.” She holds out a hand to him, her grin impish.

_You’re going to pay for that, imzadi._

Will’s never been one to make an empty threat, and she knows it. He makes good on it for the next hour until they’re both shaking and spent and hardly able to move. This part’s always been good between them, _so_ good, and it’s addictive; the feeling of her mind twined with his, her pleasure rushing through his thoughts until it becomes his own. Even after all these years, it’s never something he takes for granted (she hasn’t hit Phase yet, and Will is looking forward to it while being privately anxious about how his stamina will hold out). 

Her fingers stroke his hair as he rests his head in the crease of her neck, feeling her mirth as his beard tickles the sensitive skin. “Mmm. You weren’t kidding.” 

 _I’m always serious._

_Never doubted it._ “I knew there was a reason I married you,” she says, quiet and sleepy and perfectly warm where she’s resting in his arms.

"Great sex?” 

“Will!” She shoves him towards the edge of the bed, shaking her head and trying not to smile at the easy, satisfied grin on his face and the twinkle in his eye. Deanna’s thoughts are warm, affectionate even as she admonishes him, and the voice he hears is soft at the edges with feeling _._

_I love you, Will Riker._

_If you love me, it’s more than I deserve._ He kisses her, smothering her laugh, and it’s soft and sweet and tender, and so full of a sincerity she doesn’t expect from Will that it makes tears spring to her eyes. 

In that second, he realises it’s never going to get easier to accept that they might lose each other, but this is the life they chose and if every moment together could be the last, then the best they can do is make the most of it. He can’t feel anything but immeasurably grateful for this extraordinary life they share, even if it took them years to figure out what they really wanted. It’s taken a long time to get here, and some might say he wasted time, but with Deanna Troi in his arms, he can't regret a thing. 

“Deanna?” 

“Mmm.” Her voice is heavy with sleep.

“I love you.”

There’s no answer, but he feels her mind reach for his and follows her into that blissful unconsciousness where she’s right there with him, part of him in every way.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be pretty short, but it turned into "Eight Things About Will Riker's First Command, And One Long, Angsty You-Could-Have-Died Sex Trope Thing". I toyed with actually posting that separately, but it didn't seem to have enough feeling when I cut it down, so I left it as it was.
> 
> If it seems vague about details of the Titan, people, places and events - that's deliberate. I really enjoyed the Star Trek Titan book series so I don't want to bring my own original characters in, but as it's not canon I don't want to bring in stuff from the books either.


End file.
